e artist, cautiously. "Perhaps not long,
perhaps longer. I'm much obliged to you, miss, for all the bother I've
made you."

"Not at all," said Sybilla, politely. "I shall be happy at any time to
give you any information in my power."

"Thanky. Good-evening."

The tall American swung off with long strides. The young lady watched
him out of sight.

"There is more in this than meets the eye," she thought. "That man
knows something of Harriet--Lady Kingsland. I'll cultivate him for my
lady's sake."

After that Mr. Parmalee and Miss Silver met frequently. In her walks
to the village it got to be the regular thing for the American to
become her escort.

He was rather clever at pencil-drawing, and made numerous sketches of
the house, and took the likenesses of all the servants. He even set up
a photographic place down in the village, and announced himself ready
to "take" the whole population at "half a dollar" a head.

"There's nothing like making hay while the sun shines," remarked Mr.
Parmalee to himself. "I may as well do a little stroke of business, to
keep my hand in, while I wait for my lady. There ain't no telling how
this little speculation of mine may turn out, after all."

So the weeks went by, and every Thursday found the American exploring
the house. He was a curious study to Sybilla as he went along, his
hands invariably in his pockets, his hat pushed to the back of his
head, whistling softly and meditatively.

Every day she became more convinced he knew something of Harrie
Hunsden's American antecedents, and every day she grew more gracious.
But if Mr. Parmalee had his secrets, he knew how to keep them.

"Can he ever have been a lover of hers in New York?" Sybilla asked
herself. "I know she was there two years at school."

But it seemed improbable. Harrie could not have been over thirteen or
fourteen at the time.

The honey-moon month passed--the January day that was to bring the
happy pair home arrived. In the golden sunset of a glorious winter day
the carriage rolled up the avenue, and Sir Everard handed Lady
Kingsland out.

The long line of servants were drawn up in the hall, with Mrs. Comfit
and Miss Silver at their head. High and happy as a young prince, Sir
Everard strode in among them, with his bride on his arm. And
she--Sybilla Silver--set her teeth as she looked at her, so gloriously
radiant in her wedded bliss.

Mr. Parmalee, lounging among the trees, caught one glimp